


Magic Pie

by quomores



Category: British Singers RPF, Oasis (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Guitars, Britpop in Hogwarts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quomores/pseuds/quomores
Summary: Liam Gallagher puts on the Sorting Hat.





	1. Chapter 1

Liam Gallagher showed up for the Sorting Ceremony in an oversized parka and scuffed Adidas trainers, looking entirely out of place in the crowd of crisp black robes.

Thanks to the infamy of his older brother, nobody was actually surprised. Instead, the entire school took one look at the dark-haired, thick-browed boy and collectively thought: " _Oh Lord, another Gallagher_ ”. 

A ripple of speculative whispers passed over the Great Hall when the younger Gallagher finally stepped up to put on the Sorting Hat. _Was this one going to end up in Slytherin too? If he did, was Professor Collins going to have an aneurysm?_

The whispers soon faded into tense silence while the Hat twisted about and started to make noises of increasing frustration atop the boy's head. 

After an abnormally long time, just when it looked like Professor McCartney was about to intervene, the Hat loudly declared “ **HUFFLEPUFF!** ” with so much vehemence it sounded like it was calling for security. 

The following explosion of excited gossip drowned out the polite, almost apprehensive, smattering of applause from the Hufflepuff table. 

Liam Gallagher whipped off the hat, dusted off his trousers and unerringly, like a guided missile, walked swiftly over to the Slytherin table. He sat down beside his brother, ungraciously shoving an amused Paul Weller out of the way.

The good-natured welcome from the Hufflepuff table died rapidly into an awkward silence. The latest member of their house was now parked at the wrong table and clearly had no intention to join them.

The next first-year was being sorted, but everyone was too distracted by this development to pay any attention.

At the centre of all the attention, Noel Gallagher was beside himself with laughter. 

“Hufflepuff!” He exclaimed when he finally regained enough composure to speak, “Bloody well done! I thought you were going to be one of them brainless Gryffindor wankers, but Hufflepuff! That’s even better!”

“Yea, still better than being a stinking snake!” His eleven year old brother interrupted balefully, clearly not caring that he was at a table full of “stinking snakes”.

“Right, you mighty badger,” Noel was still too tickled to take any offense, “I just – How? You’re a total flake! And the laziest little sod I’ve ever seen, even including myself. The Hat must’ve been out of its bloody mind! Sorting you into Badger House… Not that this isn’t the funniest thing I’ve heard the whole year.”

“Nothing funny about it,” the younger boy retorted, “Its cause I’ve got a good heart, me. And you’ve got a tar pit.”

“You’ve got a potty mouth, that’s what you’ve got,” Noel snapped in reply. “And you should shut up.”

The Sorting Ceremony was coming to an end when a brave Hufflepuff prefect finally stepped up to the Slytherin table. 

“Hi boys,” Gem Archer greeted them with a quick, uneasy smile. “You know why I’m here.”

“Oh good, about time,” Noel smirked, turning to his brother with glee, “All right, get up and go with your new babysitter. Good riddance.”

“Ma said I was to stay with you,” Liam objected, refusing to budge. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ma doesn’t run this school Liam,” Noel rolled his eyes. “You have to stay with your house; that’s the whole point of all that sorting hat nonsense. Now go be a nuisance to someone else.”

“I’m staying with my brother,” Liam told Gem, entirely ignoring his brother.

Gem blinked at the Gallagher brothers and wondered what he did to deserve this. The other Slytherins at the table looked on with very varying degrees of schadenfreude. He was getting no help there, clearly.

“I’m afraid your brother’s right,” Gem mustered up a friendly, reassuring smile for the younger boy, “The Sorting Hat has sorted you into Hufflepuff because our house will provide the best environment for you to learn and grow. I know being separated from family sucks, but this is all for the best. Don’t worry about being away from your brother, you’ll be making new friends in no time.”

“Save the motivational speech, Gem. Just _accio_ him,” Noel said without looking up from his bread pudding. 

“You stink,” Liam declared to his brother, scrunching his prominent brows together so tightly they almost seemed to fuse into one, “D’you think I actually want to stay with you? I’d rather be locked up in a jail cell with a bucket of slugs! You’re a daff prick!”

He stomped furiously away from the Slytherin table but whipped around a second later to ask Gem, “Where do I go?”

With a sigh of relief and a quick wave at Noel, Gem hurriedly herded Liam off towards the Hufflepuff dormitory.

After the two had departed, Paul Weller turned to Noel with a sly, knowing smile, “Weren’t you hoping that your kid brother would be sorted into Slytherin too?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Noel muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Oh, are you embarrassed?” Paul teased, “Townshend told me you asked him about first year rooming arrangements a while back. Someone was clearly hoping to see a new first-year in our dormitory.”

“Fascinating theory, Weller,” Noel remarked blandly, “Maybe you should pick Divination as an elective, put that active imagination to good use.”

“I’ll do it if you take up Care of Magical Creatures,” Paul grinned back, all teeth, “Put that loving and nurturing side of yours to good use.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure crack. Just wanted to post something happy-ish.

Damon didn’t understand why he can’t seem to shake off the shadow of Noel Gallagher. 

It’s been two years since the Gallagher brothers unleashed their brand of northern hooliganism on the school, but it didn’t make sense why people kept comparing the two of them. Maybe it just boiled down to the whole Gryffindor versus Slytherin dynamic and how they’ve somehow managed to reverse it. 

There’s him, the charismatic prefect from a distinguished pureblood lineage in Gryffindor, and then there’s Noel, the defiant, muggle-born underdog in Slytherin.

 _It’s kinda weird, but mostly just hilarious_ , as Alex so eloquently put it. 

And sure, they were both talented at magic, but not in the same way. Noel would be the first to say there was no comparison -- probably because he thought being able to cause big explosions was soooo special. Well, Damon knew for a fact that Noel barely avoided retention every year no matter how well he performed on practical exams. The guy’s written papers were a mess, even after the school granted him special dispensation to use ball-point pens instead of quills. He’d never passed a single History of Magic exam and probably spent more time in detention than any other student, bar his brother, in the whole school. 

The thing was, Damon remembered being on friendly terms with Noel in their first year. Granted they were both still young and innocent, but he honestly wasn’t too sure when they became each other’s supposed arch-nemesis. There were definitely far more repulsive people around, but for a while now, he’d been feeling a serious sense of affront by any mention of Noel’s name. 

Things only got worse with the upcoming Triwizard Tournaments because, try as he might to appear nonchalant, he knew about the not-so-secret betting pools going on as to who would be the Hogwarts champion. It probably didn’t help that Alex kept casually updating him on the pay-offs. 

...

  


“What are you wearing?” Damon frowned as he stopped an unfamiliar first-year on his way between classes. 

“What?” The boy asked, looking guilty but defiant. 

Damon flicked his wand and the kid’s robes lifted off the floor by a few inches, revealing jeans and bright red Adidas sneakers. “You should go change,” Damon said after staring at the shoes for a long moment. He flashed the kid a benign smile, but could feel the corner of his mouth twitching in subtle annoyance. 

“There’s no rule against this,” The kid protested, “Noel Gallagher wears them all the time!” 

“No rule,” Damon agreed flatly, just barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, “But it looks fucking stupid.” 

...

  


Word of him apparently declaring that Noel Gallagher was “fucking stupid” had spread around the entire school by the next day. He knew because Graham, of all people, brought the topic up during joint Potions class with Ravenclaw. 

“Why are you fighting with Noel Gallagher?” Graham casually asked while they prepped ingredients at the same table. 

“I’m not,” Damon denied, looking up sharply from his chopped birch roots. 

“No?” Graham’s brows knitted together in mild confusion, “Then why are you guys dueling on Saturday night?” 

“We’re _not_ dueling on Saturday night – Where are you getting all this?” 

“People have been saying,” Graham shrugged, “I heard you called him fucking stupid, to which he said you should catch Aids and die. Then you both agreed to a duel to determine who should be the Hogwarts champion.” 

Damon blanched at the news. The situation had clearly gotten out of hand. 

“That’s ridiculous!” he huffed, slamming his chopping knife down and probably ruining a batch of nettle leaves. “I’m not fighting with Noel Gallagher. There’s no duel. And the Hogwarts champion is decided by the Goblet, so why the fuck would we duel about it.” 

“The Goblet wouldn’t have much of a choice if one of you is dead,” Graham pointed out. 

“No one’s going to die!” Damon exclaimed. 

“Mr Alborn,” Professor Collins’ voice came coldly from the front of the classroom, cutting off his outburst. “If you find this class too easy for you, you’re welcome to leave.” 

For a second, Damon felt sorely tempted to just storm out of class like a sulky six year old, but it seemed too much like something Noel Gallagher would do so he resisted the urge. Nevertheless, his reluctant apology was deemed insincere and he ended up having to serve detention that night. 

...

  


Given their reputation, it should not have surprised him to walk into detention and immediately see the Gallagher brothers slouching in two chairs at completely opposite ends of the room. 

“Look who’s here,” Liam drawled lazily from his seat, “What, haven’t they got special detention rooms for prefects?” 

Damon snorted, but didn’t take the bait. He took a brief look around the room, then wordlessly seated himself in the very middle, putting himself as far away from both brothers as possible. The three of them now sat in a diagonal line, cutting across the classroom like a winning tic-tac-toe combination. 

Liam sneered dismissively then went back to fidgeting restlessly with his wand, sneaking glances at his brother that quickly turned into glares when he realized that Damon was blocking his line of sight. Damon returned the courtesy by glaring back, but it irritated him more that Noel was looking out of the window like none of this concerned him. 

There was nothing to be seen out of the window at this time of the night, what a pretentious cunt. 

Professor Bowie, who was overseeing detention that day, soon entered and set them to task cleaning out the astronomy tower. 

The Gallagher brothers, probably having experience from serving way too many detentions, moved swiftly to their stations – one wiping down the telescopes and the other clearing out the candle wax. Damon was left alone to struggle with a bucket and mop, which turned out to be surprisingly challenging. He was starting to sweat profusely from dragging the sopping mop around when he noticed Noel lingering awkwardly on the nearby steps, giving him sideways glances while dabbing half-heartedly at the banister with a damp cloth. 

Damon set down the mop and observed him warily. The guy couldn’t seriously intend to challenge him to a duel, could he? 

“Spit it out,” he demanded when it looked like Noel was determined to continue hovering like a nervous housewife. 

“It’s too wet”, Noel said, finally meeting his eyes. 

“...What?” 

“The mop. Ya know what, let me,” Noel stepped down and took the offending instrument from Damon’s hands. He dipped it back into the pail and wrung it out with practiced ease. 

“Er,” Damon said eloquently when he was handed back a much lighter mop. It was clear that Noel was better at this than he was, but there was no glory in being better at mopping. Detention was _not_ a competition. He should play it cool and say thank you like a normal person--

“I didn’t call you fucking stupid,” he blurted out instead. “Okay, maybe I did, kind of, but it’s more like people…extrapolated.” 

Noel looked startled for a moment, then the sides of his perpetually down-turned lips quirked slightly upwards. Not quite turning into a smile, just becoming less of a frown. 

“Right, I’m... well, I didn’t mean it about the AIDS thing,” Noel ventured haltingly in reply. He looked almost apologetic for a second, which was alarming. 

“So we’re not dueling on Saturday right?” Damon asked quickly, wanting to get that elephant out of the room. 

Noel gave him a withering look that spoke volumes. 

“Great, I just wanted to be sure.” 

However, before Damon could breathe a sigh of relief, Liam Gallagher stepped into the picture. 

“Is that it?” The younger boy demanded, getting into his brother’s face, “This dickwad’s been slagging us off for months! What, you’re just gonna hand him the mop of friendship and forgive all, ya sanctimonious prick?” 

“Stuff it, Liam.” Noel snapped. 

“Yeah? Where d’you want me to stuff it?” Liam asked, narrowing his eyes dangerously and not backing down in the least, “Up ya pompous arse?” 

Noel didn't respond, but his hand had visibly tightened into a fist.

All of a sudden, Damon realised that they were tittering on the precipice of disaster. The air had gone so still it was almost physically frozen. ‘ _Do something!_ ’ the Gryffindor part of his brain shouted while the rest of it screamed ‘ _Run away!_ ’ 

As always, the Gryffindor part of him won. 

“Hey, unlike you guys, I actually want to get out of this detention,” he spoke up, casually slicing through the dramatic tension with his mop. “Can you kill each other after we’re done cleaning the Tower?” 

“Or we can kill you first,” the younger Gallagher sneered, but he only sounded half-serious about it. Okay, maybe slightly more than half, but definitely less than 80%, which was good enough odds when it came to the Gallaghers. Noel still didn’t say anything, but he went silently back up the stairs to presumably continue wiping the remaining shelves. 

Disaster averted. That should’ve been worth 100 points to Gryffindor right there, Damon internally congratulated himself. He turned around, only to see Liam Gallagher standing beside him, just within his usual zone of personal space. 

“What?” He asked nervously, leveraging the mop between them like a shield . 

“Stop talking shit about me and our kid,” Liam whispered from uncomfortably close to his ear. “Or next time, I’ll be the one giving you the fookin' mop of friendship, right into ya fookin' face.” He then gave the mop a hard kick and swaggered his way up the stairs.

...

  


There was no duel on Saturday. 

Damon didn’t know if Noel ever put his name into the Goblet, but it didn’t pick either of them. 

The Hogwarts champion turned out to be a scrawny ginger second-year from Hufflepuff. Some kid by the name of Chris Martin.


End file.
